


Darling Grace

by evieplease



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Older Woman/Younger Man, Widow, midwife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieplease/pseuds/evieplease
Summary: Those of you who have read my tumblr will recognise Darling Grace from several years ago. She's finally showed back up and told more of her story.There will eventually be the story of her family's deaths. I know I checked off Major Character Death, but they are secondary characters. Grace has had some pretty rough things happen. There’s also lots of sex, some drunkenness, and swearing at God.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Those of you who have read my tumblr will recognise Darling Grace from several years ago. She's finally showed back up and told more of her story.   
> There will eventually be the story of her family's deaths. I know I checked off Major Character Death, but they are secondary characters. Grace has had some pretty rough things happen. There’s also lots of sex, some drunkenness, and swearing at God.

Bugger! Bugger. bugger, bugger!! 

I wanted to kick something, scream… cry. Today had been a wretched day. I'd been unsettled and distracted all day. And I snapped at Susan in wardrobe and made her cry. God, I'm such a twat!

"Damn it Susan, this shirt is the wrong one!” I had snarled at her, my frustrations boiling over. I actually tore the shirt off and flung it at her.

She slowly bent down and retrieved the shirt on the floor, and when I glanced at her, her eyes were welling with tears. 

My breath caught in my throat. Shit, shit, shit! I couldn't believe I had just done that to a co-worker, never mind to Susan. What the HELL is wrong with me?!

"Oh, Susan, I'm so sorry! That was unforgivable!"

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze.

"I'm such a tit! I've just been out of sorts today, Susan, and that was entirely my fault. Please don't cry?"

I gave her my kerchief to wipe her eyes. She sniffed the tears back, and wiped her eyes.

"Of course, Tom. Give me a minute to find the right shirt." and she bustled off into the rows of wardrobe hangers.

I managed to get through the rest of the day without making any more of my co-workers cry, but by then end, I was the one holding back tears.

At the end of the day I found myself back in my hotel room. I couldn't settle. I was exhausted, but too wound up to sleep. I wasn't hungry. There was nothing on the telly that interested me. I didn't want to go out to a restaurant or a club. Dancing was the farthest thing I felt like doing. But I couldn't. Sit. Still.

I ground my teeth, strode into the bath and shoved the shower curtain aside, starting the shower as hot as I could stand. I yanked my clothing off, left them in a heap on the floor, and stepped into the scalding shower, turned and let the water pound down onto the back of my neck and shoulders.

I missed…Janet? No! Not Janet. I missed …connection. My family. HOME. I was tired and I wanted to go home so badly. They told us that day that we'd the next 3 days off shooting, while they fixed some problem or other, but that wasn't enough time to get an aeroplane home; I'd have had to turn right 'round and get right back on the 'plane to come back. We were here shooting for another month. I clenched my jaw, and realized that I had 3 days off with nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no-one to do it with. Bloody hell! I felt a sob of self-pity welling up in my throat. Enough of this, I thought. I've been so blessed in so many ways, far beyond my merit, how dare I feel sorry for myself?!

I turned the water to cold and endured being pelted by tiny icy knives for a moment. I shuddered and turned the water off, stepped out onto the mat and dried off. My teeth were chattering, and my balls had tried to climb up my spine. Ok, it was time to get OUT. Out of my room, out of my head. I didn't want to go for a run, I hadn't the energy for it, and besides, I'd already run 7 miles this morning. I dressed in what came handy, a soft pair of button fly levi's and a plain white v-neck tee. I scooped my wallet and key card into my pocket, strapped on my watch, and shoved my feet into a comfortable pair of old loafers. I picked up my sunglasses and slipped the stem into the collar of my tee and picked up my book. My current book is just brain candy. The Warrior's Apprentice by Lois McMaster Bujold. Maybe a little space opera would keep my attention off my problem. 

I stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me, and headed downstairs to the bar. I wasn't hungry, but a wee dram of whiskey might soothe, and at least I wouldn't be whinging alone in my room. It was quiet in the bar. A few couples were scattered around the room at tables. I headed over to the bar and sat on a stool at the far right, ordered my scotch, and opened my book. I was soon absorbed in Miles Vorkosigan's trials and tribulations, as I absently killed my drink. The bartender offered another, and I nodded, not glancing up from my book. He brought my drink and I looked up and smiled, saying thanks. I fished out my card and handed it over to pay for my drinks. Better pay for these now, if I kept an open tab I'd drink more than I should. And scotch hangovers are vile. I went back to my book, but something… I could feel someone standing behind my back, and I looked around. It was Joe. He climbed onto the stool next to me.

"How are ya, mate?" he asked.

My whole day came rushing back, and I wanted to howl in frustration.

"Fine." I said curtly.

His smile dimmed and a crease appeared between his dark black eyes. 

Joe was my co-star. We were doing a Rom-Com together. A gay love story. It was stretching me for sure. But I like it. I play George, a newly out, recently divorced father, coping with all of that, and falling for a more flamboyant, heedless young lover, played by Joe. Despite my own relentless heterosexuality and Joe's somewhat more catholic tastes, we're working well together. Joe has been very helpful in getting me to correct my inner dialog, making me more emotionally aware of other men, and helping me flesh George out for the camera. Joe really is a very generous actor, and a genuinely nice bloke. He already seems to understand and is comfortable with his character, Adrien. Joe is beautiful, with masses of dark curly hair, a gleaming white smile, and soulful black eyes. I twit him about being a young adonis, he offers to show me how, and I'm learning to call him 'darling' in a convincingly un-ironic way.

Joe moved up and threw his arm around my shoulders, asking,

"Seriously, mate, don't you have anything better to do than spend your night off drinking alone in a bar?"

I looked down quickly at my book and swallowed. I didn't want to trouble Joe, and I could feel that damned lump of self pity rising in my throat.

"Nope, just having a quiet night in with my book." I said, waving 'Miles' at him.

Joe stepped back and surveyed me, beginning to frown.

"When was the last time you ate, darling?"

I carefully didn't bat an eyelash at him calling me 'darling' off set, just smiled serenely back at him. He's always trying to wind me up.

"I don't know. Something off the craft services table, I think. I'm not hungry." I shrugged.

Joe grunted at me. He clicked his fingers and dove into his pocket for his phone.

"Excuse me, Tom, gotta get this…"

He moved off to the side of the room texting, and I went back to my book.

Joe came back and stood at my elbow.

"You haven't eaten?" He asked again.

"No."

"I haven't either, and I'm starving. Let's go."

"Not hungry." I reiterate.

"I didn't really ask", he said. "I'm hungry, you have nothing better to do than get pissed alone in a bar, and I could use the company. C'mon, mate, let's go." he commanded.

"Look, Joe, I…"

"I said let's go, darling! Do I really have to make a public scene?" he pointed at me warningly.

I laughed and held my hands up in surrender. "All right, all right! Where are we going?"

Joe looked at me a moment and quirked his lips. 

"Never-Neverland." he said.

"God, Joe. That's not a club, right? I don't think I could bear it tonight..."

"No, no, it's just a quiet place I go to hang out with friends and get some good food. C'mon. This'll be right up your street, and I can see you need it."

I sighed and climbed into the cab after him.

We arrived at a high rise block of apartments and took the elevator to the 30th floor penthouse. Joe strode right to the door and rang the bell, bouncing on his toes a bit as we waited. He glanced at me.

"Never-Neverland, mate. You'll like Wendy…", cryptically.

I stared to ask, but the door was suddenly flung open by a copper haired bundle of energy, and my mouth fell open.

"Joseph!" she caroled, and I watched as he broke into a grin and scooped her up off her feet into a bear-hug, she wrapped her jeans-clad, barefoot legs around his waist and squealed. He stepped 3 or 4 short steps into the foyer and gestured me inside with his head. My eyebrows having risen as high as they could go at the enthusiastic greeting, I stepped in and Joe shoved the door shut behind us with his foot.

"How are you, darling? Who's here? And what smells so divine?"

"I'm fine, Joseph! And I'm making cinnamon rolls, and bread, it's baking night. Simon AND Lucy are both here, as well as the usual suspects" she grinned up happily at him. "Now put me down, you lout!"

Joe slid her down to her feet, gave her a great smacking kiss on her cheek, and without a backwards glance at me, he bounded off into the lounge at the right. I could hear him being greeted loudly by several people.

She turned to me with a rueful grin. Her eyes widened slightly.

"Didn't even bother to introduce us, the young eejit! Um, Hi!"

I got my first clear look at her. She's not the 20 year old cheerleader that her leap into Joe's arms had led me to surmise. She was a good bit older, a bit older than myself, in fact. Wild flaming curls about shoulder length, held back with a gold alice band. A faint spray of freckles across what can only be called a 'pert' nose, smile lines, dancing good humor in her violet eyes. Violet? Very dark blue? Unusual, anyway, and unexpected. Beautiful white smile, and a lower lip that is… utterly suckable. Heart shaped face. I find myself grinning down at her. Glancing the rest of the way down, I found a lush body, medium breasts, small waist, and generous hips. Hourglass, in fact. Positively Marilyn Monroe-ish. White tee, blue jeans, and pink toe varnish.

We both laughed at the same time, as we realized that we were dressed identically. 

"It looks better on you!" I told her.

"I beg to differ! She glinted up at me. "But my toes ARE prettier!" She stuck out a foot to admire her toe varnish.

She reached out for my hand and said,

"Come on! I've got cinnamon rolls in the oven that I have to check on!" and she took off down the hallway, towing me behind. The hallway smelled divine indeed, and the scent of cinnamon strengthened as we went. My eyes followed her arse as it moved in those soft tight blue jeans. I'm a bloke. Sue me. I chuckled to find floury white handprints on each of her arse cheeks where she had obviously dusted hands floured from her baking. 

She towed me into a big kitchen that smelled heavenly. I took in the enormous farm house table with multiple mismatched chairs and brightly coloured cushions, and the walls covered with colourful folk art and an exquisite bright multicoloured quilt large enough for a queen sized bed. Colour, colour, and more colour, along with movement and activity, that was the overwhelming impression of her space. 

At the far end of the room were two large glass french doors leading out onto a balcony lit by fairy lights, and the nighttime city-scape beyond. The floor was terracotta tile, and there were the usual kitchen appliances, pine cupboards and a good sized walk in pantry. Two ovens, clearly in use. The refrigerator might have been large enough to store a side of beef, or the odd body. There was a pot of tea steeping, a mug, and a book waiting on the table. I craned my neck to see the title of the book. The Just So stories. Kipling.

"Have a seat, would you like some tea?" She gestured at the table. "I've just made some. Or something stronger?" Her eyebrows rose in query.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you. But…"

The timer on one of the ovens went off, and she excused herself, grabbing a couple of oven mitts. She pulled a tray of the most delectable cinnamon rolls out of the oven and set them to cool on the cooktop. I watched her move around her kitchen with confidence and grace. I noticed there were several tea towel covered bowls and a good bit of flour spread around the countertops. I took a deep breath of cinnamon, yeast breads rising, and brewing tea. A deep sense of peace stole over me, and I could feel the knots in my body loosening.

"You're baking? What are you baking, and may I help? Please? It's been so long since I've been in a kitchen, and I haven't baked in a year!"

In fact, not since I'd met Janet, who was not interested in any domestic pursuits at all, thank you very much Thomas. I found myself longing to lose myself in a bowl of bread dough. Huh, I thought, that sounded more than a little strange, if not downright kinky…

"Sure," she said, "extra hands are always welcome! I've got baguettes rising here," she pointed, "sourdough that needs kneading there, the rest of the cinnamon rolls, and a loaf of rye rising over there. Oh, and a sink full of dirty dishes! Which would you prefer?"

"Any would be great! Point and tell me what needs to be done, and I'll gladly pay for the privilege by washing your dishes as well!"

"Well, alrighty then! But as it happens, everything needs to rise for another hour or so. We have time for this tea and a bit of a chat. Sit, sit!"

"Yes Ma'am!… I've just realized that we haven't been introduced, yet, and I don't actually have a name for you...?"

She has a lovely, engaging grin, full of good humor and mischief. And, oh dear, a dimple. 

She laughed. "Sweetie, YOU can call me 'Darling'! You don't have to call me 'Ma'am', even if I probably am old enough to be your mother!"

"Yes, Darling!" Rolling my eyes. She must have recognized me and known my penchant for calling my female fans 'Darling'. I don't even know this woman, and here she is twitting me! I rather liked it, I think.

She fetched down another mug for tea from the cupboard, stretching up to the shelf, which did delicious things to the tee shirt pulled tight against those breasts, and bared her midriff for a moment. She really did have the most feminine figure, just simply luscious. Those hips. I could feel myself stir. Down, boy, I said to myself, you don't know this bird's name yet, or her situation, nor anything about her. Or what the hell Joe is playing at.

"I'll be mother, shall I?" She murmured with a sly grin, glancing at me through her lashes as she reached to pour my tea. 

"British. Right. Milk." she muttered. With another smiling glance at me, she popped up for a small jug of milk from the refrigerator, setting it by the tea pot with a quick smile for me, then spun over to the cinnamon rolls, cutting one out and fishing a plate and fork out of the cupboards. She spooned a bit of the frosting she had ready on the counter over the roll, and set it down at my elbow. She sat down with her tea, cradling it in her hands and inhaling the steam, letting her eyes drift closed with a soft breath. A body in motion come to momentary rest. 

I couldn't resist the heavenly scent of the cinnamon roll, picked up the fork and cut a bite. I moaned over the warm roll when it hit my tongue. She watched me with her eyebrows raised and a small smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, that's marvelous! I've never made cinnamon rolls myself. If I'd known they were this good fresh out of the oven, I would definitely be rotund!" She chuckled.

I cut another bite, speared it on the fork and held it out to her. The slight smile slid off her lips, and she hesitated, regarding me seriously. Then she shrugged, leaned a little over and delicately took the morsel into her mouth. She chewed contemplatively for a moment.

"It is good, isn't it?"

"It's brilliant!" I said.

I offered her another bite, but she declined with a shake of her head.

"Thank you, no. It's for you. Enjoy."

She leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea, and with a smile, watching me as I ate.

"It's always nice to see a boy who enjoys his food." She remarked.

Startled, I realized that I had scarfed the entire roll. I sheepishly ducked my head.

"I hadn't thought that I was hungry. Cheers!"

"You're welcome, sweetie."

I reached for my tea and drank a few sips, watching her over the rim. My curiosity running rampant. Who IS this woman, I wondered, and why am I in her kitchen being fed the most delectable food ever?"

"So... Joe just sort of scooped me up this evening with a demand that I accompany him. When I asked him where we were going, he said 'Never-Neverland'." I glanced around her warm kitchen. "Your name isn't really Wendy is it? 

She threw her head back and laughed delightedly.

"No, no! But there are bound to be a few 'lost boys', not to mention 'lost girls' around here somewhere! My home tends to be a sort of central gathering place for Joe and a bunch of his gamer friends. He tends to bring anyone he wants to feed home to me."

"You can't be his mother?!"

"No, I'm not! Although I did deliver him!"

I sent her a questioning look.

"Oh. I'm a midwife, and I did actually deliver him. Such a pretty baby!" She grinned at me. "I couldn't be more proud of him if he were my own. Joseph called me 'Wendy', did he?" She chuckled lightly. "I suppose I am, in some way. His parents died a few years ago, quite traumatically, and he brought me his grief. I don’t know who helped who more. You work with Joseph, you must have encountered his huge heart?"

I nodded.

"He has some sort of sixth sense for finding lost or grieving souls, and having found them, he is pretty much incapable of leaving them to fend for themselves. So, he brings them to me for food and comfort. She shrugged.

"So he thinks I'M lost? I'm one of his strays?" That was a new thought. It never occurred to me that Joe had picked up on my unhappiness and appointed himself some sort of guardian angel.

"I don't know, sweetie. Are you?…. But you should know that everyone Joseph brings through my door is some kind of family to him, and thus to me. If you need a shoulder to cry on, or comfort food, you're welcome to it."

And with that, she stood and dropped a light kiss on the top of my head, then moved off to the sink and began washing her hands.

I sat stunned for a moment, and realized that actual tears were starting to well in my eyes. Could it really be that simple? I blinked back the tears, and swallowed some tea to ease the tightness unexpectedly in my throat.. I just sat a bit, looking around at this colorful, homey kitchen, watching this intriguing woman moving competently around it, opening and closing cupboards as she pulled out stacks of colourful pottery bowls, clinking silverware, removing things from the refrigerator and piling it all on a tray. Bread, butter, cheese.

I stood and asked if I could help.

"Sure," she smiled, "grab a couple of those potholders from that drawer, and you can carry the minestrone through. Thanks."

She picked up the tray and waited for me. I followed her back down the hall with the hot soup pot in my hands, and into the lounge, where she directed me to set the soup on a trivet on a table. It smelled wonderful. I glanced around the room. It was large and airy, table and chairs at one end, and a large sunken seating area with a sectional sofa at the other. More colorful artwork on the walls. Bookcases with books and DVDs and framed photos and plants. There was a large screened telly playing some film with the sound turned down. And there was a group of about a dozen young adults, around Joe's age, sitting on the floor, playing some sort of role-play game around the large square stone and wood coffee table, laughing and talking. I spotted Joe. His lap was occupied by a dark, slim, young man about half Joe's size, talking and gesturing animatedly. Joe's arm was around a smiling blonde girl, stroking her hair while he conversed. I glanced around the room. Nearly everyone else seemed to be engaged in touching each other as they talked, but the word that sprang to mind was 'cuddling' not 'orgy'. Friendly, not sexual. With the possible exception of the boy on Joe's lap. For a minute, I was reminded of, and missed terribly, my own group of friends from Uni and RADA, feeling more homesick than ever. Ah, well.

I glanced over at her as she watched them fondly a moment, then she jerked her head at me in the direction of the kitchen, and muttered that she had to get back to the breads. Arriving back in the kitchen she asked if I minded music as we worked. When I said "Of course not!" she went over to where her phone was docked and selected a playlist.

Fat Bottomed Girls by Queen came over the speakers at a respectable volume, and I laughed out loud. When she asked what was funny, I just shook my head and moved to wash my hands at the sink. I couldn't help laughing because, as I had followed her down the hallway for the first time, and was admiring her flour handprinted backside, what had popped into my head was a line from that song: "Fat Bottomed Girls, you make the rocking' world go 'round!" She really does have a lovely arse. Quite delectably female. Heart shaped, in fact.

"Seriously, what shall I call you?" 

She snorted and reached into the shoulder bag hanging from the back of her chair, pulled out a wallet, and handed me a driver's license. I looked down and read the name. Then I read it again, the smile on my face fading in bemusement. 

The license read "Darling Grace Kelly-St. Clair". I looked up at her incredulously.

"Yeah, well," she muttered, "my mother had a singular sense of… humor… and Daddy didn't stop her. So."

Huh, I thought. Turns out it’s not all about me. Arse.

"Darling it is then, darling!"


	2. Chapter 2

Tom turned from washing his hands at the kitchen sink, and I handed him a dish towel to dry with.

“Where shall I start?” he gestured around the kitchen at the various bowls of rising bread dough.

“You’ve done this before, yes?”

“Oh yes. I don’t often get the chance to bake these days, but I think I remember how to knead dough.” he twinkled at me.

“Ok, then. Start with the baguette dough over there,” I pointed. “Punch it down and knead it for about five minutes, then shape three loaves onto that baking sheet.”

“Right, then.” He moved over to the counter by the balcony doors and pulled the damp towel off the bowl. Well, he takes direction. The worst he could do is over-knead it and make it tough. It’s easy enough to make more if he fucks it up. 

I turned away to the cinnamon roll dough on the counter. It was ready to be rolled out. As I went about making the rolls I listened to the music playing, my feet tapping and hips swaying to the beat. It’s a pretty eclectic playlist. It includes Diana Ross, Mozart, Barenaked Ladies, Jefferson Airplane, The Cars, Bastille, Marvin Gaye, the Kongos, Nine Inch Nails, Hozier, and the Beatles, among many others.

I finished up the cinnamon rolls and popped the tray into the oven, set the timer and turned to check on Tom’s progress. There were three baguettes rising on the baking sheet and he was cleaning up the countertop.

“Thank you, Sweetie, that looks pretty good.” I said.

“No worries,” he said, “what shall I do next?”

Tom looked…serene, as if kneading the bread dough had sucked all the tension out of him while he worked.

I pointed to the sourdough and gave him instructions, which he took with equanimity, moving over to the bowl and starting work on it. I could see his reflection in the glass of the balcony door, concentrated and competent. I watched the muscles move and flex in his back and arms as he folded and kneaded the dough. I hid a sigh as I turned away to the rye dough. Damn, he sure is beautiful.

“Happy” came over the speakers, and I giggled. ‘Happy’ makes me happy! I can never resist dancing along, wherever I am and whatever I'm doing. I worked my way through the dough, danced the baguettes to the oven, pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the first oven and started cleaning up, only peripherally aware of Tom. I felt good. Dancing and singing along, I rinsed my utensils and put them in the dishwasher. I could hear Tom humming along.

Just as I finished up, the quintessential dance tune started to play. ‘Billie Jean’ by Michael Jackson. Suddenly Tom was next to me.

“Dance with me?” He set his hand on my wrist. 

It happened in an instant, a flash, and wholly unexpected. The tight coil in my belly that I’d been vaguely aware of all evening and steadfastly ignoring suddenly bloomed in my core. The tight spring coiled there all evening…sprang. Let go with a silent ping. Sparks and heat ignited, and suddenly everything between my hips spasmed, my core clenching. I was barely aware of my knees buckling.

The skin of my breasts contracted, pebbled up in a shiver of goosebumps, my nipples hardening to suddenly painfully tight peaks.

Every molecule in my body zinged straight to my puss and exploded in a flash of light and heat. Every bit of air was forced out of my lungs, my knees buckled, and the earth by-god moved!

"Holy Mary, mother of God!" I gasped as he grabbed my other arm and kept me on my feet, more or less. What the everloving hell?!

"Darling, what... Did that.... How...?" His expression moved from surprise, to concern, to bewildered confusion.

“Are you all right?”

I gaped up at him just now realizing that he had me clutched against his body, holding me up, and a hot flush began to spread down my neck and chest, and I was still not standing completely on my own feet, dammit. He bent to scoop me up and set me gently in a chair as he knelt in front of me, holding my hands, eyes searching mine, and asked again.

"Are you all right?"

I laughed shakily, and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hide my embarrassment. What on earth can I possibly say to this near stranger who has just witnessed this shocking act of… I don't know what the fuck. But I know it was mine. Shit... I sighed and opened my eyes.

"I really must apologize. That was...utterly uncouth." I turned my head away, muttering, "Now I've had my own personal demonstration of why the latin root of 'mortified' is 'death'." I paused. "I just didn't expect it to be 'le petit mort’! I cheated my eyes out with a grimace, looking up at him through my eyelashes to gauge his response. He choked, taking a desperate breath through his nose and threw his head back, laughing. Ah, he got my joke. He really is rather cute, with his tongue between his teeth and his ears pink.

“So Darling,” he says, “will you explain to me what that was all about?”

“What? You want to know what you did to cause me to totally lose my shit? Are you planning to try to replicate the effect?”

“Certainly not! I appeared to have been utterly superfluous to requirements! The earth may have moved for you Darling, but I don't for a minute believe that I was the lever!”

"Welcome to the wild and strange world of the change. Innocents and bystanders beware." I muttered. I saw him mouth the word 'change?' And then he grinned.

"Darling, don't you have to be a certain age to blame menopause?" His eyebrow arched.

"Well, yes." I said seriously. "You do. Or rather I do. I am."

"Come on, you can't be above 45!"

"Of course I can! When I said I was probably old enough to be your mother, the word 'probably' was only a salve to my vanity… I'm 52."

It took just about all the courage I owned to sit still and allow this beautiful man to trace his eyes over my face, catching and cataloging and adding up all the small signs of age to be read there. The silver threads invading my flame colored hair. The softness of my upper eyelids, and the crow's feet at the corners of my eyes that stay even when I'm not smiling. The smile creases around my mouth. The beginning of cording on my neck. The freckles (read age spots) beginning to bloom on my chest. So far the changes to my visage are fairly minor, taken one at a time. And still belied by the heart shape of my face, my dimples, the cupid's bow of my mouth and my thrice bedamned pert nose. Still… My age is there for those who care to look.

He sat back on his heels. His hand came up and cupped my cheek and he stroked his thumb over my cheek. I looked straight into his blue gaze.

"Darling, please do not compare yourself to my mother. I promise that there is nothing about you that reminds me of her..."

I ignored that. Of course I did. What possible response could I make –?!

"Sweetie, please get up and sit in a chair. You really...can't kneel in front of me that way!"

His eyes glinted at me.

"Oh, can I not?"

He knelt up and captured my lips, my breath leaving me at the feel of his firm lips brushing mine softly. His hands slid down to my wrists and he gathered them together, bringing them up between us as he deepened the kiss. His lips gently pulled away from mine, and he watched me for a moment. I stared in astonishment.

"Two things you should know about me right from the start, Darling. I am pathologically unable to resist a challenge," he smiled gently down at me.

"So I see." I said, gazing up at him with wide eyes. Then...his demeanor changed. His eyes darkened. His lips pressed together, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. The grip he had on my wrists firmed, and he positively loomed over me. How the hell did he do that from his knees??

"The second thing you should remember," his voice deeper than a moment ago, "is that I am in no way like those callow boys in your lounge."

I felt my eyes widen more, my knees trembled and my breath came short as I nodded slowly, staring into his eyes. Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat on a trampoline!

He slowly moved my hands up his chest and around the back of his neck where he released them. He brought his head to within a centimeter of my lips and whispered.

"Yes?"

"Oh yes." I whispered back.

His hands came to my waist, and his mouth came down on mine in just about the most compelling and possessive kiss I've experienced in a mighty long while. It was arousing and expertly delivered. Oh, a grown man, indeed...

He lifted his mouth slowly away from me, and I swear my lips tried to follow him. He pushed back and sat in his own chair, propped his elbows on his knees and let his hands dangle between.

"Now, would you care to explain in more detail, how it is that menopause has anything to do with the fact that you...?" He waved a big hand vaguely at me.

I flounced back in my chair and felt another flush gathering. "No," I muttered, "However...under the circumstances..." I huffed at myself impatiently. Pull up your big girl panties, woman! 

"Do you want the pretty explanation, or the gritty one? Choose carefully." I warned.

"I think I'd prefer the gritty version, if it's all the same to you.”

"You know, its not. The pretty version is much easier and less detailed. Are you sure..?"

"Oh yes. 'Gritty' if you please, Madame!" 

I sighed. I'm clearly not getting off this hook with anything less than a frank disclosure of some pretty intimate matters.

"Ok, sweetie. For this I need a bloody big glass of wine, and my hot tub! There's some wine in the refrigerator there, would you get it please? There is red in the pantry if you prefer." I reached up into the cupboard and brought down two wine glasses.

"Follow me..."

I stepped through the glass doors onto my balcony. My place is 30 stories up, and the nighttime cityscape sparkled up at me. The sounds of the ever present traffic were muted and very nearly silent this high up. I walked over to the hot tub, set the bubbles going and turned up the heat a bit. It was already warmed, but it's been a fucker of a day, and I needed it. I turned around and there he stood, silhouetted in the light from the kitchen. He brought the wine over and set it down next to the glasses at the edge of the tub. 

...And stood looking down at me. I swallowed. Somehow it hadn't occurred to me until this moment that I had completely overlooked the fact getting into all that wonderful hot water meant that I was proposing to get naked with this man and tell him some of the most intimate details of my life. I'm not normally shy, in fact very much the opposite, but I just froze for a moment.

He stood behind me, placing his large hands on my shoulders, looking out over the twinkling city lights, 30 stories up. Then he leaned down and spoke quietly in my ear.

"I was taught that it is impolite to be more dressed than one’s hostess. That," he waved a hand at the door, "in there, was quite a naked moment, so… Given that you've already been somewhat involuntarily stripped naked before me, it's only gentlemanly for me to be likewise."

I could hear the rustle of his shirt as he drew it over his head, the buckle on his belt clinking as he unbuttoned and slid his jeans off. I shivered. He dropped his clothing on a nearby chair. I heard him hissing in his teeth as he lowered himself into the hot water.

I turned to look at him. He was sitting politely with his back to me, pouring a glass of wine. He poured another glass, topping it almost to the rim, and set it beside the first. 

"Come on girl. There is your bloody big glass of wine waiting for you." And without turning his head, he held his hand up to me. Oh, hell. In a younger man that would be considered terribly brash, but at his age? It's suave and sexy as hell.

So I skimmed out of my clothes, took his hand, and damn if he didn't actually hand me into that hot tub as if I were some Great Lady of Note, steadying me, seating me and handing a glass of wine to me. It's only a pity that the Great Lady I had in mind was the Dowager Countess. The bubbling hot water instantly relaxed me, coming up nearly to my shoulders.

"You are quite good at that, very suave indeed!" I quirked at him. "You'd make quite a good Maître D', if you fancy a career change." I smirked at him over my wine glass.

He threw his head back and laughed as I grinned back at him, sipping my wine. I sighed.

"I wish I hadn't given up smoking, I could really use a cigarette..." I grumbled.

"When did you quit?" He asked.

"Oh, when I was about your age."

His eyebrows rose.

"First, I'm glad you quit. Second you're still trying to remind me of our age difference."

"Oh sweetie, this whole conversation is going to be about our age difference! Well, and our gender difference too, I suppose." I turned on the underwater bench to face him, propping my elbow on the edge of the tub with my wine glass in hand, I took a damn big gulp of wine. 

"Forward into the breach, girl, you can do it!" I muttered to myself, and took a deep breath. I eyed him.

"You did ask for the gritty explanation. You should probably be forewarned that I can be appallingly blunt in these matters.” I lifted my eyebrows at him, and he nodded, making a ‘bring it’ gesture. 

“So it's like this, I had a procedure done last year to deal with some uterine fibroids. They warned me it could throw me into early menopause, and well, it did." I shrugged. "I was headed that way pretty soon anyway...so, um, the science is; my hormones are all catywampus! My estrogen levels are down and my testosterone levels are up, and it's doing some pretty bizarre things to my, um, libido."

Tom sat watching me attentively while sipping his wine.

"Anyway, the menopause thing...it's this roller coaster going backwards, you can't see where you're going, and you don't know what dips and turns await you in the next five minutes, never mind the next 24 hours. It's very like going through puberty again, only at hyper-speed! For me...it's terrifying and exhilarating, and oh my god, so, so embarrassing! When you touched me, I had no clue that I could or would pop off that way!"

Tom's eyes were dancing and he chuckled.

"It doesn't seem much to complain about!"

"Oh? Did you hear me complaining?" I shrugged and grinned. "It is what it is. And I have to take the bad with the good, as Mama would say. But it's changing everything that I know about myself. All I can do is go with it, and cope as gracefully as I can." I quirked a brow at him. "But I wasn't joking when I said innocents and bystanders beware! I should probably just yell 'run!!'

I took another swig of my wine, in reward for getting through all that without terminal embarrassment. My puss helpfully sent up another throb.

Tom sat back and regarded me. Over his shoulder, I saw Joseph stick his head out the door, find us in the hot tub, grin and duck back into the kitchen, calling out, “Alright you lot! Time to clear up and clear out!”

We sat and drank our wine, listening to the ‘children’ as they ferried dishes into the kitchen and filled the dishwasher. Showing uncommon tact, they called out “Goodnight!” to me through the doorway as they left. Joseph stuck his head back out the door.

“Well, I’ll be off. I’ll lock up, shall I?”

“Joseph honey, would you please come out here a moment?” I reached my hand out to beckon him and he moved toward us.

“Thanks for riding herd on the nerds tonight. Is everyone alright?”

“Oh yeah, everyone’s fine. They were all in a pretty good mood tonight. Sherry finally got up the nerve to apply for college.”

“That’s good. Did Sam show up?”

Joseph chewed his lip and looked a little worried.

“No. I’ll call him in a bit, see if he’s ok.”

“Ok. Now,” I smiled at him, “Will you please tell me why you dragged poor Tom here and plopped him at my feet like a cat leaving a mouse on the doorstep? With no introduction and no explanation?” I felt Tom jerk and slosh a little in the water when I asked. I turned my head and smiled at him. 

I turned back to Joseph. “Well?”

He heaved a sigh and started stripping off, tossing his clothing on another chair, checking his phone before setting it down on top of the pile. He climbed into the tub, snagging the wine bottle and my glass from my hand as he moved to sit next to me. He topped off the wine glass, took a swallow and handed my glass back to me. He stroked my hair back from my face, looking intently at me. Whatever he saw seemed to relieve or please him, as I saw him relax a bit.

“Because Grace, I could see that you were unhappy and tense. You’ve been very…volatile lately. Clearly whatever was bothering you was not something you wanted to talk to me about. You’re usually as wide open as a sunflower, and yet over the last few weeks I’ve watched pretty helplessly as you curled up tighter and tighter on yourself. It’s been like waiting for an electrical storm to arrive, and I’ve never seen you be the source of that kind of tension. Even the gamer nerds have noticed. I’ve been really very worried.”

“You usually treat me as a friend and a companion, yet you have been mothering me more and more lately. I think you needed someone whom you don’t feel responsible for, a peer of sorts to talk to… With Liz out of the country…”

I found myself nodding, and swallowing a lump in my throat. I have missed Liz terribly since she’s been in India. She won’t be back for at least another month.

Joseph stole another sip of my wine, handing the glass back and looking over at Tom.

“At the same time, I’ve been watching Tom here become increasingly agitated, and trying desperately to keep it all bottled. Which was unusual, to say the least.

“And you just kept getting wound tighter and tighter. You were treating us all like slightly backwards children, and it was getting annoying, to tell the truth. Tonight when I found Tom getting pissed alone in the hotel bar it struck me that you two might be…some kind of comfort to each other. Or at least take your minds off your own troubles for awhile. Was I wrong?”

I sat staring glumly into my wine glass. I had been very patronizing toward them all, avoiding Joseph’s questions and his increasing concern…and his exasperation. This evening was the first one in awhile that I hadn’t tangled with Joseph in some way or another. It really was because my attention had been diverted by Tom. Pretty thoroughly, in fact.

“…No. I’m sorry honey, I’ve been inside my own head and I wasn’t really paying attention to…I didn’t intend… Oh god. I’ve been a total pain-in-the-ass, haven’t I?”

“Yeah. But we all love you anyway, you know.” Joseph wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me. “On the bright side, none of us has ever eaten better!” he said with his wide, white grin.

Tom stirred and cleared his throat, drawing both our sets of eyes. “You could have said, you know, Joe. I’m not entirely clear why you thought dropping me unsuspecting into the top of what you’ve described as something of a powder keg," he flicked a glance at me, "would help anyone! No offense, Darling.”

I shrugged a shoulder at him, and turned back to Joseph, seconding the question.

“Tom mate, while I’ve been watching her try not to explode for weeks now, at the same time I’ve been watching you try not to implode! You’re another one like her; usually calm and focused. But I’ve been watching your tension and agitation build and build. Seeing you make Susan cry this afternoon…it was so unlike you.

“I can see you’re getting fed to the teeth. Back to back projects… You’ve been away from home too long, mate. You’re living among strangers in strange hotel rooms, surrounded by well meaning people who are trying to ease the stress of that by doing pretty much everything for you. You basically aren’t allowed to do the simplest things for yourself, not dress yourself, or make your bed, or even brew a cup of tea! And you certainly haven’t been allowed to do anything for anyone else! It’s driving you mad, isn’t it?”

Tom sat with his mouth open and his brow furrowed, staring at Joseph. “I’m used to doing for myself at least some of the time. Dammit, all of these people fetching this and carrying that for me are making me feel like I’m incapable of tying my own shoelaces!”

“There you go.” Joseph concurred. “It seemed to me the easiest cure for you was someplace you could go to get away from all that, someplace like home. I can’t send you home, so I brought you to the next best thing...

“You’re both a lot alike, you know. You’re both de-fusers. So… Implosion, meet Explosion.” He gestured from Tom to me. “I think you two will be very good for each other.” Then he grinned. “If not, the resulting cataclysm ought to prove to be very entertaining!”

We both goggled at him. I started to splutter at him. “Seriously?? You’re thinking that I’m fixin’ to blow up and splatter the bystanders and what just leaps into your head is that it’s a good idea to drop Tom Freakin’ Hiddleston in my lap??” I surged to a stand, the water sheeting off me loudly.

“Hey!” I heard Tom object behind me, but I ignored him. By now I was standing over Joseph, buck-ass nekkid, gesturing in his face and building a head of steam. 

“Jezus H. Tapdancing Christ! How is having fucking Loki of fucking Asgard step over my threshold unexpectedly supposed to calm me the fuck down??”

“Hey!” Tom objected louder at me.

I whirled around, nearly falling in the waist high hot water, sticking my finger up in his face. “You just wait your damn turn!” I snapped, starting to turn back to Joseph. 

Tom surged up, snatched my finger in one hand and said very evenly, but with a slightly dangerous air, “Please don’t talk about me as if I’m not sitting right here. It’s quite rude, you know.” 

I came to a complete halt. Oh my god. I’m pitching a hissy fit in front of a man I hadn’t even met two hours ago! And Joseph was only trying to help. Shit. I sat abruptly, and rubbed my forehead. “Sorry. You’re right. Shit... Joseph honey, I’m sorry, too.” 

Tom sat and handed me my wine glass. “It’s alright, Darling.” He rubbed his own face wearily, and took a big breath. “For the record, Joe’s not wrong…”

“And now, goodnight, Darling Grace.” Joseph leaned over and gently kissed me on the forehead. “Be well,” he murmured against my skin. “Tom,” he nodded and reached out to touch his shoulder. 

Joseph stood and climbed out of the hot tub, grabbed a towel, dried and dressed quickly. I watched him walk away, amazed and proud of his maturity and thoughtfulness. Grateful that he'd put up with me for this long.

“You did good, Paduwan, you’ll make a primo Jedi one day!” I quipped at his back. Joseph turned his head over his shoulder and chuckled back as he walked through the door. Suddenly he popped his head back out and grinned his cocky white grin at me, saying, “And don’t forget to use a condom!”

I called after him. “Fuck off Joseph! And don’t try to teach your grandmother to suck eggs!” We both laughed as he padded out, and I waited until I heard the front door close behind him to turn back to Tom.

“Such a sweet boy, so polite to his elders…” I snarked, shaking my head.

Tom lifted a brow, looking after Joseph. “Does he usually admonish you about condom usage?” he asked with a curious grin.

“Oh no, it’s usually the other way around! I rarely let the 'children' leave without reminding them to wear a condom. In fact, you’ll find that there’s a basket of them for the taking on the front hall table. None of those children will be able to excuse a pregnancy or a social disease because they didn’t have a condom, or know any better!” I jerked my chin down with satisfaction.

“Good on you!” he said. “The very idea that an STI or a baby is an appropriate 'punishment' for the natural use of their bodies makes me want to weep.” he said sadly.

“Yeah, me too. Hence the basket of condoms!” I nodded my head firmly. Tom watched me a moment, then opened his arms, beckoning me with one.

"Come here?" 

I nodded and moved over.

His arms came up around me, one hand between my shoulder blades, and one hand grasping the entire cheek of my ass, lifting me entirely onto his lap The size of the hands on that man!

He took took control of that kiss right away from me. He pulled my body right to him, breast to chest and hip to hip as he deepened the kiss, growling low in his throat and invading my mouth and my brain. His tongue was stroking mine, the hand between my shoulder blades stroking smoothly up and down my entire spine, from the nape of my neck to the dimple above my ass and back. His other hand was gripping my ass and moving my lower body in a semi-circular grind against him. I could feel his cock twitching and pulsing as it grew. And grew. And oh ye gods, grew!

Tom released my mouth and his hand came up into my hair at the back of my head, tugging a little to expose my throat to his tongue and lips. His hips and cock were meeting me, always touching a new spot, making me squirm. 

My mind stuttered as his tongue found the pulse point under my jaw. He began to stroke and nibble just there, and I could feel my heart rate increasing against his lips. Jimmy crickets… I dragged my arms up and cupped his head with my hands, briefly pulling his mouth closer to my neck as he suckled lightly before reluctantly pushing him gently away to hold his eyes.

“Is this what you want?” his voice rumbled out from deep in his chest, his eyes all pupil.

I ran my hand down his neck and across his collar bones to his shoulder, marveling at how broad they were, and wanting to run my tongue into the hollows and dips between his muscles.

“Sweetie, I was going to ask you the same. For my part, yes. Can you do this tonight and leave tomorrow to take care of itself?”

My eyes came back up to his face, searching for the answer in his expression. For the most peculiar moment it was Prince Hal looking back at me, all brash boy, and then he morphed into King Henry, his face maturing, his eyes becoming more focused and intent as he leaned slightly back from me and lifted an eyebrow.

“I have a beautiful, naked, willing woman in my lap, Darling. I assure you that I am not thinking or worried about tomorrow in the least.” His voice was such a smooth dark velvet, a shiver coursed down the back of my neck and my whole body twitched with want.

I ducked my head briefly and ran my tongue along his left clavicle, then pressed my hands into his chest and moved back from him again. Keeping my eyes fixed on the place my tongue had just occupied, I said softly, “Then there are some housekeeping matters to discuss Thomas, don’t you think?”

He nodded at me and waited expectantly.

“I can tell you that I’m clean. Because I work with liberal amounts of blood and body fluids, and despite great care in dealing with those fluids, I get tested regularly. My last test came back clean 2 weeks ago, and you’re the first naked male I’ve encountered since then. Nevertheless, condoms will be used because I’m being potentially exposed on a daily basis. I’ve been doing my job for nearly 30 years, and I’ve never been exposed yet, but you must be aware of-“

He broke in. "Darling, in my line of work I am generally tested as part of any new contracts that I sign. I don’t have a problem with condoms. I would have worn one anyway, as a matter of courtesy.”

“Such lovely manners…” I drew a finger down his cheek. “Oh, one last thing: my safe word is ‘ouch’…”

Tom snorted lightly. “Yes. So is mine!”

“So, one very last thing? Can we get out of the water? I’m getting wrinkles on my wrinkles…”

“Certainly.” His hands grasped my hips and smoothly transferred me from his lap to the seat beside him. He gave me a sweet kiss on my lips, and slowly stood up out of the water.

I caught my breath at the sight of hm, the water sheeting and dripping off him, the moonlight touching and gilding the mountains and valleys of his body. I had to laugh a little. Trust an actor to understand body language, viewpoint, and lighting…

“I see what you did there,” I murmured. He smiled and reached down for me. I took his hand and he led me upward along his body while holding my eyes with his. When I reached my full height, looking up into his face, my body just…quivered. His eyes darkened and he leaned down and spoke into my ear, “I saw what you did there, Darling.” I could feel a hot coil start to tighten in my lower belly, and my nipples began to pucker.

He turned slightly and stepped up onto the seat of the tub and paused, leading me onto the seat with him. Another kiss, and he stepped over the edge and onto the balcony floor, then turned to help me over the edge, steadying me by my hips.

“You’re going to chill, where are the towels?”

“There.” I pointed to the cabinet in the tub surround. He reached down and pulled out a stack of towels, dropping them on the nearby table, retaining one and wrapping it around my dripping body, rubbing briskly to dry me. I reached for a towel to use to dry him in turn, but he kept interposing his body between my hand and the table while he continued to rub my body down.

“Sweetie, let me dry you too, you’ll catch a chill.”

“Darling, I will dry off,” his tone utterly serious, “after I have made sure you are warm and dry, and not before.” He caught my eyes and knelt at my feet, reaching up to dry my belly and thighs with firm strokes. At his height, even on his knees, his head came up between my breasts, which he nuzzled briefly before reaching around to stroke the towel down my hips and ass, the backs of my thighs. 

He sat back on his heels and wrapped his large hand around my knee, dragging the towel down and carefully dried my feet. There’s no one like a Brit for coming the charming gentleman, I thought. In that moment I felt there was no more cherished woman in the world.

He stood and reached for another towel, slinging the damp one over his shoulder. He wrapped a dry towel around my shoulders, tied another around my waist, and kissed me on the forehead. I grinned at him as he used the damp towel to vigorously dry himself.

“Thanks, Dad.” 

He looked at me with a slight smile, rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You American girls. No idea how to cope with being treated like a lady…”

“Well, it happens so seldom, you see.”

“American men are idiots.”

"Well, yes. But we don’t tell them so because they have all the penises. Penii? I’m not sure there is a plural for penis… I wonder why that is?” My mind side tracked, but Tom brought me right back to the matter at hand.

"Darling? Do shut up." He dragged me close and bent to kiss my mouth, putting my tongue to a far better use than rambling on about other penises. He lifted me up in his arms.

"Which way?" He started indoors. I opened my mouth to direct him just as he stepped into the kitchen, and my phone went off. 'Baby Love'. Oh, no. I stiffened.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I'm on call, and I need to get that. Will you put me down, please?"

Tom set me carefully on my feet with a look of regret, and I trotted over to pick up my phone, glancing at the screen. My heart sank. It was Mari.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grace is a midwife who has had shitty night. Skip this if you don't wanna be sad. Seriously. And there is swearing at God. If you're not ok with that, don't read. Not kidding.

“Tom,” I said, “I need to take this. Excuse me.” as I walked away, wrapping one arm protectively around my waist, the other hand pressing my cellphone too tightly to my ear..

“This is Grace.”

“Hi Grace,” I heard a sad voice say in my ear. “It’s Mari. Things are happening.”

“Ok, Mari. You’re having contractions? How far apart and how long are they lasting?”

“They’re about 7 minutes apart, lasting almost a minute now. They started about an hour ago, and they’re definitely getting stronger.”

“Ok, honey. Is John with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Are your waters intact?”

“Yes, but there’s a little blood on my underpants.”

“That’s good, honey. Sounds like things are going in the right direction.” There was a long pause.

“Mari are you there?”

“…yeah. Just having a contraction...”

“Can you tell me how it feels?”

“…um, kind of tight…and…cramp-y. It’s kinda hard for me to talk right now…”

“That’s fine, honey. You’re doing good. It’s going to be awhile yet, do you want me now, or do you just want to hang out with John until things get stronger?”

“…No. Please will you come?” She sniffled.

“Ok, Mari. I’ll see you soon. You relax and drink plenty of fluids, ok? Call me if things change rapidly, if you have any questions, or when your contractions get to 3 minutes apart, or if your water breaks. Let me talk to John?”

i hear the rustling of the phone being handed over and John’s voice comes on the line.

“H-hi, Grace.” His voice cracked.

“Hang in there, John.” I told him firmly, “I know it’s hard, but you guys are going to do fine. I told Mari to relax and drink plenty of fluids. She can eat if she wants to, but she probably won’t. You should definitely eat something, ok?” 

“…yeah.”

“I’m serious John. Eat. I’m going to come check on you guys in about an hour. I have a few things I need to do before I leave, but I can get there sooner if anything changes.”

“Ok, Grace. Thank you… We’ll see you soon.”

“Did you make up the bed and set out your supplies yet?”

“No. I'll do that after we get off the phone.”

"Ok, honey. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I clicked off my phone and took a deep breath, bowing my head and saying a short blessing. Then I straightened and turned back to Tom

“You heard?” He nodded, looking puzzled.

“I’m only on call for Mari right now, and it looks like tonight or tomorrow…”

I took his hand and led him to a chair at the table, urging him to sit, then I sat in his lap; and wound my arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry, Tom. I’m going to have to go attend Mari and I’ll be out for the rest of the night, and possibly tomorrow as well, can’t tell yet. I feel terrible about leaving you at this point, but I really don’t have any choice.” I heaved a heavy sigh.   
Tom wrapped his long arms around me and squeezed me gently. “Is there anything I can do for you, love? Shall I go now?”

“…No. I really don’t want you to go. Unless you want to…this is not your problem and you shouldn't have to cope with any of this-”

Tom interrupted me. “I said I was in. This is part. What can I do for you?”

“Bless you, sweetie. You’re a good man.” I kissed him briefly. I looked up at him, gauging him. “Will you stay here tonight? Sleep in my bed, even if I’m not here? Relax, make yourself at home? Sleep late, do laundry, make your own breakfast?" I drew a deep breath. “It would really be nice to know that someone is home…that you’re here…”

“Do you know, that sounds really lovely. I’m fed to my teeth with generic hotel rooms and room service. Yes, Darling, I will gladly accept your kind invitation, thank you.” The arms holding me tightened, and I felt a kiss on the crown of my head.

I let my breath out slowly, grateful beyond words that I wouldn’t be coming home to an empty place tonight…tomorrow.

***

I trudged up the hall to my apartment door around 3 am, with the vision of Mari and John holding their daughter and crying over her stuck on replay in my head. Right now it feels like that will be in my head, at the forefront of my thoughts forever. I scrabbled around in the bottom of my bag for my keys.

Once I got through the door, I headed straight to the laundry, stripping off the purple scrub top I was wearing and dropping it into the washing machine. There was a bit of blood on it, so I started a cold soak. Then I filled the basin in the sink with water and add a couple of squirts of betadine to it. I dug out my used instruments, forceps and scissors and dropped them in to soak. I’ll clean and sterilize them tomorrow. I’m just operating on autopilot and routine, trying desperately not to think, not to cry, not yet.

I’ve got to get these things done before I can let go.

I pull out another basin and turn out my birth bag, sorting out the trash of empty sterile glove packets and unused instruments, baby blankets and hats, stethoscope and blood pressure cuff, and all the other stuff. And labor records which I must review and sign off on before anything else. I steel myself before starting that chore. I so don’t want to dive back into the storm in my head to make sure all the medical details are documented, but it’s a must, before anything else.

Oh, except for the placenta. I pull out the plastic bag it resides in and gently dump it's contents into the empty basin, draw on a fresh pair of gloves and begin to explore it, re-checking to make sure the margins were intact and there were no pieces left behind.

Tears spill out of my eyes unheeded as I note that it is a beautifully formed, perfect organ. It had done it’s best, and done very well to support the damaged baby girl through her almost ten month journey into her brief 42 minute life… I stared at her lifeline, admiring the intricacies of it, my mind otherwise blank until I see two teardrops splash onto it in rapid succession. I can’t cry yet.

I gave a mighty sniff and shored up the dam. Later. I’ll cry it out later. My hands worked automatically at their tasks, re-bagging the placenta, stripping the soiled gloves and tossing them into the medical waste bag, washing my hands. I got out Mari’s chart and leaned on the dryer to review it, trying to make sure the details were correct while not dwelling on the pictures in my head. I sigh and sign off the chart, replacing it in my bag to take to my office tomorrow. I’m done here.

I dragged myself into the kitchen, the automatic sensor detecting my movements and turning on the kitchen light over the sink. Trailing over to the refrigerator, I opened it, shivering in the cold air that puffs out.

I glanced down. Oh yeah… my scrub top is soaking in the washer and I’m standing there in nothing but my scrub pants and my bra. I shrugged, looking for something, I’m not sure what, when my eyes caught the bowl of lime wedges there. A drink or three would be good before bed to dim the memories… Help me sleep. Oh, I want to sleep...

I brought out the limes, hip checking the refrigerator door shut, and took them over to the drinks cabinet. I opened the cupboard and grabbed the bottle of tequila and a shot glass. Looking around for the salt shaker. I gathered up my spoils and used my elbow to open the french doors and step out onto the balcony.

I didn’t want the hot tub. The warm night air felt good on my skin, so I moved around the deck to the chaise and table in front of the door to my bedroom, which opens out onto the balcony. Setting my armload down, I poured out a shot of the tequila, licked my hand and salted it, licked the salt, threw back the shot and bit the lime wedge. 

I closed my eyes and waited, sitting on the edge of the chaise, for the dam to break and the tears to come. And come they did. I poured another shot and downed it, sniveling as the tears ran down my face. I scrubbed at my face and let the memories come, pouring yet another shot.

...At least I’m getting my vitamin C today. I laughed mirthlessly at the thought and then I began to curse. "Goddammit to hell!" I mumbled. "Why the fuck does shit like this have to HAPPEN?!"

I muttered louder and swallowed another shot.

“Fuck!! Fucking Fuck!! I shouted, finally letting go, tears pouring down my face, no doubt joined by copious amounts of snot. I shouted to the skies.

“Think you’re funny, do you, you fucking asshole?! Goddamn, motherfucking, sorry-ass excuse for a caring God! You couldn’t care less, could you, you goddamn punk-ass, dickless, motherfucking, syphalitic, toad-fucker!!!” 

I sobbed and snatched up another shot. The skies remained unmoved, no lightning to strike me down. I stared at the shot, almost disappointed that I hadn’t been blasted by an angry God. I’d have been happy to tell Him to His face exactly what I thought of a so called benevolent God that allows the slaughter of innocents, and innocence.

"Come and get me, you prick.” I growled skyward.

A long fingered, pale hand reached over my right shoulder and plucked the shot glass out of my hand. I jerked around and there he stood on the other side of the chaise, wearing nothing but a soft pair of flannel sleep pants slung low over his hips. Tom.

(Oh fuck me for an eejit...) I groaned. “I forgot you were here.”

He smirked as he swallowed down the shot and snagged a lime wedge out of the bowl. I turned back around and thunked my head down on the table. “Ow.” I muttered, rubbing the snot and tears off my face.

“I’m sorry I woke you… It’s been a long, bad, night.”

I felt the chaise jostle and two long legs appeared from behind me on either side of my own, a long arm snaked around my middle and pulled me back against a hard chest. The bare skin of my back shivered as it came in contact with the firm heated wall of muscle behind me.

“What’s got your knickers in such a twist, love? Surely it can't be as bad as all that?” he murmured into my neck, his scruffy chin scratching at the skin of my shoulder and short curls tickling my neck. I stiffened.

“Can’t be as bad as all that? Oh yeah? Did you forget what I do for a living?! Twit! Two lovely people who should have been deliriously happy parents are grieving tonight, so yeah, it fucking IS as bad as all that!” I snapped. I felt the breath go out of him.

“Oh love, I’m so sorry, Darling…” He hugs me tight from behind. “What happened?” he whispered. I slumped against his chest.

“We knew already, you see. That she wasn’t going to live, I mean.” I sniffed back more tears. “Baby had a congenital malformation, an enlarged heart, dwarfism, along with a number of other severe problems. Not compatible with life, they call it. We found out on the ultrasound months ago. She was fine as long as she stayed inside her mother, you know, but once she was born we knew that there wouldn’t be room in her tiny chest cavity for her enlarged heart and her breathing lungs…” I said in a monotone. “Her parents refused to have her in the hospital, which would be bound to do everything they could to prolong her life for a few painful hours.”

“So, after a perfectly normal and safe labor and delivery, we waited. Waited to see if she’d even be able to take a breath. I don’t even know if I was relieved or not that she did. I did the best I could for the poor little scrap, wrapping her in a warm blanket and putting an oxygen cannula on her face, and gave her to her mother.” My chest heaved. “She lived 42 minutes, a whole lifetime… Gods, Tom, they named her Angela Grace, and then she…died. I can’t bear it!” I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. 

Tom softly stroked my hair and murmured comforting little shushings in my ear. He reached and poured another shot for himself and downed it.

“Welcome to my little piece of hell…” I muttered brokenly. “I have the best fucking job in the universe… except when it’s the absolute worst.”

“Is this what you do when it hurts? Get pissed, cry and scream at God?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” I sniffed back more tears. “Got a better idea than getting roaring drunk? If I’m drunk enough I’ll pass out and not dream. The hangover tomorrow will be spectacular enough that I won’t be able to hear my heart ache over the thundering in my head…”

I went to pour another shot, but he took the bottle away from me.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“How much have you had?” he asked.

“Not enough. Not nearly enough!” I said.

“Then this seems like a good place to stop.” He turned me to face him. “You’re a mess…” he says sympathetically, taking in my tear streaked face and red, swollen eyes.

“Come on, then. Let’s see if we can’t find a better way for you to cope.” He scooted me off the chaise to stand, steadying me with a firm grip on my hips when I wobbled.

“Let’s get you in the shower, shall we?”

But as soon as he started to move me the floor and walls began to swoop around me.

“Whoops!” I giggled. “The earth is moving, is it good for you?”

He gave me a peculiar look before he laughed. “Oh good! You’re a funny drunk!”

Every time he started me in the direction of the bathroom I wobbled and reeled a bit. He huffed at me.

“Right! Up you go!” and he scooped me up, striding off toward the bath.

“Smooth!” I snickered at him. “How many tries did it take you to perfect that move?” He smirked at me.

“That would be telling…”

I gazed up at him and patted his cheek. “You sure are pretty, aren’t you?” He laughed that laugh, but his ears turned pink. “Aww…”

We arrived in the bath and he deposited me on the only seat. 

“Are you steady there?” he asked me.

“Sure!” I said brightly, leaning my arm on the vanity and my head in my hand. “I sit here all the time! I’m real good at sittin’!”

He rolled his eyes at me and stepped away into the shower stall, turning on the water on both shower heads.

“…hey! Don’t roll your eyes at me, buster! Didn’t your mother teach you any better? And besides, what if your eyes got stuck that way, then where would you be?” I closed my eyes and began to drunkenly hum… Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you…

He stepped out of the shower and fills a cup with water. “Where do you keep the paracetamol?” he asked.

“Para…para…thing? Don’t have any. Got some ibuprofen in the drawer there. Why?” My forehead creased in worry. “Do you have a headache?”

Tom smiled. “No, but you will!” He found the bottle and shook a couple into his hand. 

“Here, take these and drink up all the water like a good girl.”

“Pushy thing, aren't you?”

“Yep. But you’ll be happier in the morning,” he assured me. I snorted.

“That won’t be the only thing I’m happy about in the morning, I bet!” I grinned at him.

“That depends entirely on how long it takes you to sober up, Darling!” He grinned back. “So be a good girl and drink up all the water,” he nudged the cup back to my mouth.

“Yessir!” I finished the water and belched delicately into my fist. At least I hope it was delicately. I handed the cup back to him and said absently, “Thank you, Henry.”

“Henry, eh? Darling, how many of me do you see, and am I wearing my crown?”

“Well Sweetie, if you’d just hold still, dammit, I could count all of you! And what else would Henry wear besides a crown? …wait.” I flung up a hand and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Shhh…ooh, Henry’s not wearing anything BUT a crown!” I giggled lasciviously.

“Damn, you’re cute!” He muttered as he hauled me up by the arms and said “Strip!”

“Hey! Aren’t you s’posed to buy a girl dinner an’ a movie before you go making all these demands?” I demanded. He sighed and peeled my scrub pants and underpants off, then reached around and unhooked my bra, sliding it off my arms and discarding it on top of my pants. 

I sighed and shook my head mournfully, looking down at my naked chest. “Guys these days. No appreciation…”

Tom stopped and looked down at me, his eyes blue darkened. He leaned down and kissed me gently while running his palms over my breasts.

“You’re the pretty one, Darling…”

Then he herded me into the shower, washing me as I leaned drunkenly against the shower wall. Finishing, he lifted me out of the shower, setting me on the mat and drying me gently. He carried me to bed, tucking me in and scooting next to me, his arms around me. His lips in my hair.

"Sleep..."

And I did.


	4. Chapter 4

A large warm hand was stroking my hair when I woke. It felt so nice that I didn’t want to open my eyes. I let myself drift in that gentle petting for just a few more moments.

But, as all things do, the moments eventually passed. I opened my eyes and smiled at the man sitting on the bed at my hip. He touched the tip of my nose with a smile of his own.

“Good morning, Darling Grace. How’s your head?”

I frowned, remembering last nights’ sorrows and the way I’d handled them. Badly, that is. I winced slightly and saw him wince sympathetically. My head doesn’t hurt nearly as badly as it should. Not nearly as badly as I deserve!

“Sit up.” He encouraged, and I moved to push myself up against the pillows and headboard, shoving my hair out of my face, blinking owlishly at him, and clutching the sheet to my chest.

“Here.” He handed me a couple ibuprofen and a very large glass of water. “Take these, and drink all the water,” he instructed firmly.

I did as I was told, not about to protest that I could take care of myself. I could, of course. But it was so nice to have someone care for me, and he seemed to want to do it.

“Thanks.” I handed the empty cup back to him.

“Think you could cope with breakfast?”

I blinked and pushed myself higher up the headboard.

“Sure. What would you like?”

He shook his head, and gave me a slightly offended look followed by a rueful smile.

“I was offering to make breakfast for you, Darling, not demanding that you get up and make it yourself!”

Gods, my head was moving slow this morning. I rubbed my forehead, wincing.

“Sorry.”

Tom chuckled and pushed my hand away.

“Here, lie back,” he coaxed, pulling me down to rest my head. His large, warm, comforting hands ran across my forehead, fingertips massaging into the hair around my face in a soothing rhythm. I groaned and went limp.

“I’ll give you ’til Tuesday to stop that…” I moaned.

He chuckled and continued to massage away the remnants of my headache, knowing to stop just before my skin began to feel chaffed. I blinked my eyes open and looked up into aqua eyes.

“Is it Tuesday already?” I pouted. He chuckled.

“Get yourself dressed, lazy woman. I’ll go start breakfast. What would you like? That is, if you don’t mind..?”

I waved a hand at that.

“By all means, have at!” I let a little mischief creep into my grin. “I’m not stupid enough to turn down breakfast cooked and served to me by a lovely naked man!”

Tom glanced down at himself and went a little pink.

“Clothing is on the menu. What would you like for breakfast, and how many times do I need to ask?”

I quit teasing him, though it is good fun. “Scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee?”

“Coming right up. Get dressed.”

I wrinkled my nose. 

“Shower first.”

“I showered you last night, don’t you remember?”

“And I thank you for that, but I’ve been sweating out tequila all night, and eww!”

He laughed. “Fine, I’ll start your coffee and wait on the eggs until you’re finished.” Tom stood up in all his naked glory and pulled me up, turning me gently by my shoulders, and swatting my butt to get me moving. I yelped and rubbed the spot. “Go!”

“Bossy.” I grumbled, but made my way into the bath and started the shower. Gah, I stank of used tequila.

I peed and brushed my teeth, again- gah!- my mouth tasted like something died in there. Last week sometime. Then I stepped into the shower, letting both heads beat down on me, washing and shampooing. I sniffled back some tears over last night’s…I don’t know what to call it. It wasn’t a disaster, because we all knew it was coming. Loss. Loss is what it was. What she was. 

But life moves on for the living, whether we’re ready or not.

What an incredible blessing to have someone…Tom, here to lean on. I shook my head, wiping suds from my face, tilting up to let the spray wash me clean. It’s been so very long since I had comfort to come home to that I almost didn’t recognise it. A few tears spilled in gratitude and went down the drain with the rest.

And here, I’m supposed to be the one offering comfort…

I twisted the shower knob off, stepped out and dried vigorously, wiping steam from the mirror. Yep. I still look like my mama. Oh well. In my head I still look twenty-five. It’s a shock to see Mama looking back at me from my bathroom mirror. On bad days it creeps me right the fuck out.

I feel like I ought to feel shy about my aging body in front of Tom, but he wears his own skin so comfortably that mine doesn’t seem to matter either.

My stomach rumbled and I laughed back at it, when Tom tapped on the door.

****

I brought her clean clothes, just a tee shirt and jeans that were in the top of her dresser drawers.

“If you’ll tell me where to find your panties..?” I asked and she grimaced, looking like she might gag. 

"Hang on. Whatever was that face for?" I said, surprised by her reaction. I reached out and laid my hand on her wrist.

She laughed. "Sorry. I got distracted by your use of the word panties." She made the same grimacing face. My lips twitched.

"So what's wrong with the word panties?"

And there it was again, that grimace. Her consistent reaction to that word is intriguing. I marveled that I'm standing in her en suite, with her wrapped in a towel, having a conversation about her distaste for the word panties...

Darling rolled her eyes. "It's just such a ridiculously diminutive word! Panties are for little girls, not grown women!"

"So what do grown women wear?" I asked curiously.

A devilish spark lit her eyes and her dimple flashed. "Nothing at all..." she deadpanned.

Oh. 

That image speared into my brain and I swear time stood still. I shook my dazed head experimentally to see if I could bring my brain back online.

She broke out in snickers. Reaching up, she patted my cheek. "You should have seen your face! Oh, and you turned pink too! Damn, boy-"

No. My back stiffened. That is simply not on. I felt my teeth grind together in annoyance. Placing my hand over hers where she cupped my cheek, I lifted it and kissed her palm. 

Her breath caught and she stared at me with wide eyes, her smile falling away from her face. I stared into her eyes over my lips on her palm, smiled, and ran my tongue across her palm, chuckling when she jumped and her laugh pealed out into the echoing room. 

It's a lovely laugh, but it was slightly nervous. Good, mission accomplished. I moved my hands down to her hips and stroked them.

"I'll make a deal with you, Darling. I won't refer to your undergarments as panties..." I grimaced with her, and this time she caught it and snorted, "if you refrain from calling me 'boy'. I don't care for diminutives, either." I held her gaze seriously, and then I smiled at her. "Right?"

She smiled ruefully back at me. "Yes. Sorry." she nodded.

"Good." I kissed her. "Now, about those knickers?" I enquired.

"No need for them, thank you. I'm going to go do my yoga after breakfast, and I don't really need the distraction of my underpants bunching up!" 

I felt myself go still, the image of her bending and twisting invading my imagination. She looked at my face and grinned, leaning close and whispering.

"Tom, your hetero is hanging out all over the place." 

I groaned at her.

"Darling, you and my hetero are going to break my brain..." I whispered as I leaned down to brush my lips over her soft, plump mouth. Her breath gusted out of her in surprise. I drew back to look at her.

Something about this woman pulls at me. She is intriguing. She just seems so at ease with herself. She is warm, and caring. She is witty and earthy, she's energetic, yet she can radiate calm and comfort that makes me want to sink into her arms and not leave for a week.

I reached for a towel and started to dry her, running the towel over her shoulders and upper chest, crouching and working the towel up her legs.

She laid her hand on my shoulder for balance, and I looked up. Her violet eyes had gone nearly black, the pupils expanded, as she looked down into my face. Her breathing sped up and a flush spread over her chest. Dear God...is she going to do it again?? She took in a gulp of air and stepped back, her shaking hand falling from my shoulder.

No, she wasn't going to pop off, after all. But damn, what a gorgeous sight... And that step back? I went instantly hard. 

She’s just so edible...the ripest, loveliest peach at the top of the basket, the slightest bit bruised, but radiating the most delicious, alluring fragrance of ripeness.

I stood and scooped her into my arms as she yelped in surprise, laughing. Carrying her through to her bedroom, I laid her on her bed. The sight of her spread out on the bed pulled a growl from me. I knelt on the bed and crawled up her body to capture her lips. 

Pulling her close, I rolled, putting her on top, straddling my hips. She did not lose an instant, lunging into a searing kiss as she rolled her hips over mine. Her still damp flaming waves swinging tantalisingly around my face.

She dragged the nails of both hands down my chest, leaving slightly burning pink trails on my skin behind, dragging a nail over each of my nipples on the way. I may have briefly levitated from the bed. 

“Fuck. Me.” I groaned, my eyes squeezing tight at the sensation, and flying open when she responded.

“Well, alright... if you insist.” she smirked at me, wriggling her hips over mine and driving me mad, tantalising me, taunting me with her hot slick, wetting my cock.

I gripped her hips, not knowing which I needed more, to drag her over my cock, or hold her very, very, still. 

Still won. My hands tightened on her hips and she froze, holding herself over me, not moving at all. Like a good dance partner, she had recognised my cues and responded. 

Thank all the gods. I wasn’t ready to finish with her, whatever my body was urging.

I closed my eyes and deliberately distracted myself, reciting a bit of Prince Hal to take my mind off of exactly how wet she was over my cock.

She smiled down at me, the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes that aren’t normally very apparent deepening with her smile, like mine do. The sweet dimple in her cheek tipped any suggestion of her age back to the younger side.

I pried my hand loose from it’s death grip on her hip and reached up to dip a fingertip into her dimple. The dimple deepened, then she turned her head and snapped at my finger, her eyes laughing at me the while. Oh, she was playful and that just set me afire.

I grinned back at her, yanking my finger out of danger, and shook it at her while she snickered. Returning my grip to her hip, I tossed her over onto her back, her laughter pealing out into the room. 

I rolled on top of her, snapping my teeth at her nose, making her laugh more.

The honest delight in her laugh made me realize there are too many strangers in my life who are transactional. I cast a grateful thought Joe’s way, thankful that he had recognized that I needed someone in my life to care for, who could happily give and happily receive, never expecting or needing payment of favours.

Hovering over her and smiling into her violet eyes, I brought her hands over her head, twining our fingers together. I still needed her not to touch me yet…

I leaned in for a kiss. Her mouth was warm and inviting, her tongue playing and dancing with mine.

Breaking the kiss, I trailed my lips over her jaw and down her neck, taking care to tease under her ear with my tongue tip when she arched her neck fin invitation for me.

I teased there until I felt her shudder, her body telling me when that bit of erogenous zone had reached peak sensitivity. Always leave a woman want just a bit more…

I moved on trailing licks and soft kisses down her neck, running my teeth over her collarbone and biting lightly on the apple of her shoulder. She made a strangled noise and her hips lifted, straining for touch.

Like a dancer’s, her body told me what it wanted, but I was determined to lead this dance, purely because I am not ready to stop dancing. I absolutely know that if I let her lead she will have me spurting like a teenaged boy in no time at all.

I let go of her hands, and they went automatically to my shoulders, grasping and holding on as tightly as if she would fall if she let go.

“You’re so lovely, Darling. I’m going to taste these hush breasts now, I’ve waited long enough…”

My hands moved to circle and tease. I hovered my mouth over her, breathing hot, moist air over her nipple, feeling it tighten and pucker against my lip. My hand teased over her other breast until she was arching er back, begging me for more.

My mouth closed around her breast, sucking strongly on her nipple, delighting in the hard rub against my tongue. My hand closed around her other breast.

“O-oh T-tom,” she stuttered my name, “I need you inside me…fuck me please…”

“Oh Darling, I have every intention of getting inside you…” I bit lightly at her nipple and moved down her body, trailing kisses. “Starting with my tongue…”

She gasped when I pushed her thighs open, lifting and draping her legs over my shoulders.

Oh, she had a ginger’s complexion all the way down. Tidy little flame curls surrounded a sweetly pink pussy, the hard knot of her clit standing up and begging for my attention.

I started gently, circling my tongue around her pretty little clit, careful not to touch it directly yet, testing to see how sensitive it was and how much pressure she likes. She tasted so perfect…

Sliding my hands under her arse, I lifted and held her for my tongue, licking and rubbing on either side of her clit while she mewled and tried to push into my mouth.

I nibbled over her lips, tugging lightly just to hear the little whining noises she made. I took long, rather rough lick at her pussy, ending with the flat of my tongue rubbling directly and firmly over her clit until she cried out.

Now I knew where she needs to be touched for her finale, which I’m not quite ready to give her yet.

Lifting her arse higher, I drove my tongue directly into her, soft and heated and slick. Her pussy clutched at me as if she could pull me in deeper.

I played there, exploring her taste and texture, her flavour seeming to go straight to my cock.

I switched my attention back to her clit, pushing a finger inside her and seeking the ridged spot on her front wall while I firmly rubbed my tongue over her clit, feeling her spasm around my finger with every lick until she came with a shuddering cry on my tongue, her body arched high off the bed.

I kept her rocking there until I felt her muscles softening and her back relaxing to touch the bed once again.

I set her pretty bottom down carefully and sat up, licking my lips with a happy grin.

Reaching for the condom on the bed next to us, I rapidly sheathed myself, and leaned over her on straight arms, watching her lazy smile.

“May I?” I asked politely.

“Please do.” She returned with a flash of laughing dimple at my formality.

I kissed her deeply, dancing and luring her tongue into my mouth as I sought her entrance.

I slid into her, reveling in the slick, hot clasp around my cock, pausing for a moment of mindless pleasure when I bottomed out.

Darling twined her legs around my hips, tilting her pelvis up and inviting me deeper, and invitation I gladly accepted.

When I began to move, she moved with me, rocking me in the cradle of her hips and murmuring broken encouragement in my ear, fragments of “…so good” and “yes, please” and “more…” and “Ohhhh”

She met me stroke for stroke, and I got lost in the sensations of her hot cunt grasping me, he legs gripping my hips and squeezing, and her hot breath in my ear.

Through the haze in my brain I felt her tightening around my cock, and her body stiffening in another orgasm, pulling my own from me.

Hot come boiled out of my bollocks, my spine going rigid with one last thrust and my mind whiting out with the pleasure of coming inside her.

When my mind cleared, I was lying full length atop her, my cock still clasped in her fluttering cunt, my face shoved into her neck and breathing heavily. Her hands were running soothingly up and down my back as I slowly got my breath back under control.

Rolling up onto one elbow, I looked down into her smiling, contented face.

“Alright?”

“Mmmm. Yes. Very alright.” She stretched her neck up to kiss my lips and relaxed back. Reaching down, she found the edge of the condom and held it as I pulled out of her warm pussy, both of us groaning at the lost connection of our flesh.

I rolled the rest of the way over to flop onto my back with an exhilarated laugh, my arm going around her to scoop her into a hug.

I wondered vaguely if she was a ‘scurry off to the loo to clean up’ type, or if she was the snuggling sort of woman.

She threw her leg over min and her arm over my chest, her head nuzzling into my shoulder.

Snuggling it is, I thought happily. We lay gently stroking each other, my hand running down her hair and hers tracing circles on my chest, until her stomach gurgled loudly. We both burst into laughter.

She snorted. “I believe I was promised breakfast!”

“Yes, Ma’am! Coming right up!” I lifted my head. “If you’ll let me up, that is..?”

She grumbled humourously, but rolled off me, and I pushed myself from the bed. I dropped the used condom into her bedside bin, snatched up my trousers and threw on last night’s shirt. I really must do some laundry soon, I thought, taking a surreptitious sniff.

She watched me, a slight smile on her face, leaning her head in her hand.

“Come on, old girl!” I held my hand out for her. “There’s coffee waiting in the kitchen and the eggs won’t take a moment!”She sighed and took my hand, letting me pull her to her feet.

“Right. I’m going to clean up in there,” she waved a hand at the ensuite, “I’ll be with you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”

“Don’t be long, your eggs will get cold! Or eaten!” I shook a finger playfully at her.

She snapped a salute back. “Yessir!”, and fairly scampered into the loo.

****

“Now, eat before all this lot goes cold!” he scolded.

I got the plates and silverware out, and we dished up his lovely, fluffy scrambled eggs. I got the orange juice, butter, jam and salsa out of the refrigerator, hip checking it shut, and placed them on the table. Tom set out the sourdough loaf that he’d helped me bake not long ago. I paused and watched him as he cut into the loaf, competently slicing a couple of uniform pieces and setting them on our plates. We brought our plates and sat at the table.

“What have we here?” he asked, picking up the salsa jar and twisting the lid off, taking a sniff.

“Oh, it’s just some salsa left over from last summer’s batch. I like it on my eggs. Would you like to try some?”

"You made this? It smells wonderful. The jam too?” He looked impressed.

I laughed. “It’s really very easy, you know. I’ll be happy to teach you sometime, if you like.”

He happily scooped some of the salsa onto his eggs and took a bite. “Ohh, this is marvelous! Yes, I’d love to learn how to do this!” His enthusiasm is endearing. 

“You know you’ll have to wait for the tomatoes to come ripe next August, right?” I grinned at him.

His face fell, as he remembered that shooting would be wrapping up well before then and he’ll be moving on somewhere else.

I spread butter and jam on my bread as I asked him, “What’s distressing you most, that you have to wait until August, or that you don’t know where you’ll be in August?” I took a bite of bread and jam.

“Mm. Bit of both, I suppose.” He grinned. “I’m an impatient sod, you’ll find. But I really don’t know yet if I’ll be able to turn up next August for salsa making lessons.”

“Well, don’t worry. Tomatoes come ripe in August every year.” I pointed out. “It’s an open invitation. And I understand that airplanes do fly all year around…” i teased.

“Oh…” I heard a small gasp from the French doors leading from the kitchen onto the balcony.

I looked up from under my sunhat, trowel in hand as I tended to my little raised bed garden. The morning sun was beginning to strengthen, warming the skin across my shoulders through my shirt. It was going to be a hot day, even 30 floors up.

Tom moved as if mesmerized by my little truck garden. 

“This is…this is brilliant, Darling,” he breathed. He came closer, His eyes turning a gorgeous sun-drenched aqua shade as he walked out of the shadows near the door. My breath caught.

He lifted his hand, blocking his eyes from the direct morning sun and the aqua faded into a quieter but no less fascinating blue.

“What have you got here?” Curiosity made him step closer and I motioned him next to me to put his back to the sun.

“The usual stuff. Herbs and salad greens. Cucumbers and squash.” I pointed with my trowel. “Peas and beans there.” I pointed at the trellis covered in vines and heart shaped leaves. “And tomatoes and peppers in the half barrels.” I looked around my little garden with satisfaction. 

I love working in my garden, from planning it in the spring, to prepping and planting and caring for it. And harvesting! There’s nothing better than fresh veggies harvested that day for your supper.

“You could pick some peas for your dinner tonight, if you like.” I offered.

A wide smile split his face. His hand came up and spread over his chest. “Darling, I would be honored.” He actually bowed to me.

I smirked at him, smothering a laugh. Such a ham. He squatted down next to me.

“As a matter of fact, Darling, I was hoping to persuade you to let me take you out for dinner this evening?”

He picked up my hand, dragged my garden glove off finger by finger, turned my hand, and kissed the underside of my wrist. Goosebumps peppered my body.

“How could I say no?” I breathed. The tip of his tongue came out and traced my pulse point. “What’s… the dress code?” I whispered breathlessly, unable to tear my eyes away from his hand engulfing mine. Or the mouth teasing the thin skin of my wrist.

Tom grinned at me, bouncing to his feet, his mission accomplished. My other hand was cradling my wrist. That was definitely the sexiest invitation to dinner I’d had in years.

“Any old ballgown will do.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. I couldn’t think of any restaurant in 600 miles where a ballgown wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Where on earth does he think he’s taking me?

Tom burst out laughing at my expression. “Just dressy will do, Darling. My tuxedo is in the wash anyway.”

I snorted. Tuxedo in the wash, my left foot!

“Right. Well then, my tatty black will have to do. What time is the pumpkin coming for me?”

“Eight o’clock sharp! Don’t be late!”

He stood and sauntered away through the kitchen doors while I watched the play of the muscles in his ass and thighs flexing.


End file.
